


Wanna See A Better Day

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Aftermath, Canonical Character Death, Discussion of character death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, oh there are Friends references in this, takes place sometime before itsv and after dp2, vague timeline for Peter B.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 04:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: After the wholethingwith Cable and Russell and Vanessa(oh, god, Vanessa), Wade needs a shoulder to cry on.





	Wanna See A Better Day

**Author's Note:**

> I fuckin love all the fics centered around Burrito Peter coming to terms with Shit after he deals with the events of his movie but uh......... there’s been a missed opportunity here (Wade dealing with the events of HIS latest and greatest film) and I’m here to correct that.
> 
> Title comes from _Let Go_ off the Spider-verse soundtrack bc that song has been an anthem for me the last couple days *shrug*

Deadpool comes crashing through Peter B. Parker’s (thankfully open) window at eleven twenty-nine on a Tuesday night, and Peter nearly shits himself when it happens.

One minute, he’s watching TV, minding his own damn business. He’s considering ordering a pizza. The next? _Kablammo_ , crash bang boom, there’s a red-suited mercenary tumbling into his lap.

Peter yelps, because of _course_ his stupid spidey-sense doesn’t see Wade as a threat. Of _course_ that means that he gets no warning whatsoever whenever Deadpool feels like paying him a surprise visit.

Wade doesn’t move after he falls unceremoniously onto the couch, though, and slowly, Peter’s adrenaline rush fades into something more… concerned.

“...Wade?” he tries hesitantly, poking at his back. He’s missing his katanas, Peter notices. In fact, he doesn’t look like he has _any_ weapons on him, which is… new. He’s got his suit on, but it looks like it was only just tugged on haphazardly. In fact, from where he’s sitting, Peter can see the outline of Wade’s jeans through the spandex.

Wade mumbles something into his stomach, and Peter frowns.

“Man, have you been drinking and vigilante-ing again?” he asks lightly, but Wade doesn’t seem amused. Peter doesn’t even think he cracks a smile. He just stays there, curled into a ball on the side of Peter’s sofa, his head shoved in against Peter’s shirt.

Peter nudges his head lightly with his knuckles. “C’mon, Wade. What’s this about?”

Wade lifts his head just enough to tug off his mask, which he tosses to the floor immediately before curling back into his little ball of Deadpool.

“Vanessa’s dead,” he says quietly, voice raw. And then he tucks his head back down against Peter’s stomach.

Peter feels his heart lurch in his chest, and suddenly, Wade crashing through his window a half hour to midnight makes a helluva lot more sense. He stiffens, and then drops one hand to Wade’s back, just… resting it there.

He doesn’t know what to say.

“Fuck,” is what he says, intelligently. Without looking up, Wade nods his agreement.

There are a lot of things Peter wants to ask: _How did it happen? When did it happen? Could you have stopped it?_ But none of those things are questions he can ask with Wade tucked against him like this, so he doesn’t. He just keeps his hand on Wade’s back.

Wade is trembling, Peter realises a second later. It’s nearly imperceptible, but it’s _there_ , a miniscule shiver that wracks his coiled form where he lies. Peter moves without thinking when he figures it out, and slides his hand along Wade’s back until he’s tugging Wade a little to the side, until he can wrap his arm around him and draw Wade in against his own body. Wade goes willingly, shifting just enough to press his face into the side of Peter’s neck, to curl his body towards Peter’s so that he’s half-on-top of him when Peter’s arm wraps around his shoulders.

“Shit’s been fucked up, Petey,” Wade whispers hoarsely. It’s almost incoherent, but Peter hears every word clearly with Wade’s mouth so close to his ear. “Shit’s been—“ Wade swallows hard. Peter can feel his Adam’s Apple bob against his shoulder. “—so, so fucked.”

“Yeah?” Peter matches Wade’s volume, his own voice hushed.

“You’d never believe it.” Wade’s voice cracks and breaks, and he shudders hard. Peter holds onto him more tightly, as though Wade will break apart if Peter doesn’t hold him together.

(He won’t admit that he’s afraid that might be the case. He won’t admit that he’s afraid for Wade, that he’s afraid of the catastrophe that might occur if he lets him leave while he’s like this.)

“They killed her,” Wade finally continues, raw and broken as he pulls himself back just enough to be heard clearly. “They were gunning for me and they killed her. Fucking cowards. And then there was the kid—“ And that’s vaguely familiar. Peter’s seen the news, the shitty, scattered coverage about the mutant kid wreaking havoc on the orphanage he’d grown up at. He hadn’t even known Deadpool had been involved. _God_ , they needed better news coverage. “—and _Cable_ , and Colossus won’t let me kill anyone anymore, which is—“ Wade sniffles. “—obnoxious.” Despite the fact that he seems to be trying to crack a joke, Wade seems closer to actual tears than Peter has ever seen him before. “I had to get away from everyone for awhile,” he adds quietly, and it’s _honest_ , and it doesn’t sound like Wade means to say it because he chokes on the words and then shoves his face in against Peter’s neck again so hard it almost hurts. Peter bites the inside of his cheek to avoid flinching.

“She told me everything would be fine,” Wade whispers. “But I still fucking miss her.”

Peter doesn’t know what that means, but he doesn’t know how to ask, and he… honestly doesn’t even know if he even _wants_ to know. Most of the time, it’s easier to accept the things that Wade says at face-value than to go poking around under the surface.

“I think you’re allowed to miss her,” Peter says quietly. He doesn’t _do_ the whole _comfort_ thing. He’s never been good at it; MJ had always told him he sucked at being _nurturing._ She’d always ended up going to her friends for emotional help, instead of talking to her husband.

None of that had helped with the whole divorce thing, in the long run, but Peter determinedly _isn’t thinking about that_ right now.

Wade doesn’t respond, but he does nose his way impossibly closer. Peter is pretty sure he can feel the warm damp of tears against his own skin, but he’s not about to call Wade out on it. Wade’s seen him in shitty emotional states more times than he can count; for some reason, it’s easy to be himself around Wade, all things considered. Despite his awkwardness about _feelings,_ Peter’s glad that Wade feels comfortable enough to come to him with this.

It feels like they sit there for an eternity, with Wade trembling and crying and Peter silently trying to provide whatever comfort Wade came to him for. Wade doesn’t pull away and act frustrated with his lack of help like MJ used to, and he doesn’t shy away from the physical contact Peter provides, either. Not that Peter really expects the latter; even when neither of them are emotionally unstable (or as _not-emotionally-unstable_ as either of them ever get) they tend to be fairly comfortable with _touch._ Mostly because Wade has always been tactile, and Peter has learned to adjust.

(He’s learned to _like_ it, but admitting that —even to himself— is some powerful shit, so he’s not about to do that.)

Wade doesn’t do any of the things Peter expects him to do, sitting there. It’s not a comfortable quiet between them, but it’s not uncomfortable, either. Eventually, Peter is distracted by the television he’d failed to turn off upon Wade’s arrival, and he continues to absently rub a hand along Wade’s back, his shoulders, and the back of his neck as he watches the tail-end of whatever _Friends_ episode had started rerunning while he’d been paying attention to Wade.

When Wade shifts just enough to lay his head on Peter’s shoulder, Peter moves his arm to accommodate him, but doesn’t say anything. Together, they watch the episode wind down, and it’s only when the show breaks for a commercial before the next episode starts that Peter finally breaks the relative silence between them.

“You should get out of this,” he says, tugging lightly at the spandex of Deadpool’s suit before letting it snap back a bit against his skin. “It’s probably too late to order a pizza, but I’ve got mozzarella sticks in the freezer.” It’s an offer to stay without saying as much in explicit terms, and Peter knows Wade knows it. He can’t just come out and _ask_ Wade to stay, and he knows that Wade won’t ask it himself, but he’s also well-aware that Wade probably won’t leave again tonight unless Peter tells him to go.

And Peter’s not about to even think of doing _that._

“You trying to get me out of my clothes already, baby boy?” Wade asks, and there’s a hint of his normal playfulness that sparks, just for a second, before his gaze grows subdued once more. The fire in him doesn’t seem like it can burn for more than a few seconds at a time, but Peter doesn’t blame him. How can he, when he’s been through the same damn thing? MJ might still be alive, but he’d be damned if anyone tried to claim he hadn’t lost her.

“Of course. You know me so well,” Peter deadpans back at him. _This_ , he knows well. Banter. He can do banter.

He nudges Wade off of him, but he squeezes his shoulder gently when he gets up, just to make sure the gesture isn’t misinterpreted. “Just get changed, Wilson.”

Wade attempts a weak smile at him, along with a two-fingered salute, and Peter hears rather than sees him get up off the couch as he turns to go rummage through the freezer. He comes up with half a bag of mozzarella sticks and an unopened package of tater tots that he’s pretty sure he had a reason for saving. He can’t remember it now —he thinks he was saving it for some kind of special occasion, which translates roughly to ‘the next time I feel like dying’— and he decides it doesn’t matter before throwing them on a pan beside the ‘sticks and tossing the pan into the oven. He sets the timer, double-checks that the timer is set properly, and then runs a hand through his hair as he heads back to the sofa.

 _Greasy_ , he thinks with a wince. Not that it matters. Wade’s seen him in worse shape than this.

When he sits down, Wade is already perched back on the couch, freshly peeled out of his costume. He looks rumpled, his clothing wrinkled from the spandex crushing it, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to start crying again.

He crawls over to Peter’s side immediately and retakes his position against him without saying a word. Peter doesn’t say anything, either, just drapes his arm casually around Wade’s shoulders in a silent invitation.

The episode is already playing and Peter _knows_ he’s going to have to get up soon to check on the oven, but he can’t say no to Wade when he’s like this. (He can barely say no to Wade _normally_.)

“I like this one,” Wade murmurs, gesturing to the TV. “Ross is an idiot.”

“Isn’t that just every single episode?”

“Yep.” Wade nods against his shoulder. “That’s the fun part.”

Peter’s glad Wade’s not looking at him, because he’s definitely got the beginnings of a fond smile on his face and he doesn’t know if he can wipe it away. He hums in response and lets the mindlessness of the show consume him. In the back of his mind, he _knows_ that Wade isn’t going to be cured of his grief by a single _Friends_ marathon, but they can deal with that when it needs to be dealt with.

Wade didn’t come here to be lectured, or to be scolded, or to be interrogated. He didn’t come here for revenge. He didn’t come here to be sad.

Peter knows that Wade is here to be distracted from his shithole of a life, and if it’s the least he can do, Peter will do his best to provide the distraction he needs.

When the timer goes off and Wade refuses to let go of him —which leads to Peter teasingly threatening to toss Wade out a window if he doesn’t let him get up— Peter knows that it’s working, and he’s content.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know anything about _Friends_. 
> 
> Kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans.


End file.
